We cooked huge meals and crowded around our dining table and washed a lot of dishes.
We stayed in our pajamas and exchanged gifts and long hugs and thank yous.
We hiked in the snow and sang carols by candlelight.
I sat up late, sitting at the kitchen counter with my Mema, asking for more stories of her early days as a wife, her adventures with my Poppie no longer here.
I spent time with cousins and aunts and uncles and parents and the sister I see not nearly often enough.
And it was crowded, and I slept on an air mattress, and it was noisy and full.
And it was sort of calm and most definitely bright.
I think that's how Christmas is supposed to be. I don't even think the silent night was all that silent.
But I know it was definitely full to the brim with life and family and joy.